


The One That Was A Friends Rip-Off

by Augustus



Series: Dollar Bills [5]
Category: Friends, The Bill
Genre: Crack, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-16
Updated: 2000-10-16
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augustus/pseuds/Augustus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If The Bill were a nineties Generation X sitcom…</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One That Was A Friends Rip-Off

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to: Hope, who told me to write it *g* The gratuitous Sergeant Boyden references are all for her *G*

** [SCENE ONE] **

_(The gang - Di Worrell, Vicky Hagen, Sam Harker, Rodney Skase, Tom Proctor & Reg Hollis - are gathered in the Sun Hill cafeteria, sipping coffee from oversized polystyrene cups.   
Sam is in the middle of one of his stories.)_

SAM: So, he told me that I was Liza Minelli in a past life. Which makes sense, if you think about it, because I've always really loved that _Cabaret_ movie…

REG: Uh... Sam... I think you'll find that Liza Minelli is still alive. Which would create a rather large hole in the structure of your entire reincarnation theory.

SAM: Oh. _(Brightening)_ Oh well, I never really trusted him anyway. He had horrible blue eyes.

TOM: Hey! I have blue eyes too, you know.

SAM: Yeah, well, I've never really trusted you either. I just didn't want to say anything. 

TOM: Well, that's nice to know.

SAM: Mm-huh. You have a yellow aura, you see, and you know what that means!

TOM: Uh, no, no I don't. But, y'know, I think it's far better for us all if I don't ask.

VICKY: Good idea.

_(Reg looks at his watch.)_

REG: Oh God. I'm due at the museum in five minutes! C'mon, guys, you were meant to be helping me come up with an excuse to tell Sergeant Boyden.

TOM: _(Sarcastically)_ Oh, but Sam's little Liza Minelli story was just too irresistible to pass up.

ROD: _(Ignoring him)_ What _I_ don't understand, Reg, is why you would ever want to go to the museum in the first place.

REG: Uh, Rod, don't you remember me telling you that they made me director of the plant history section?

ROD: ...no.

REG: You were definitely there. I vividly remember you asking me whether the museum had giant plant skeletons, like they do with dinosaurs.

ROD: ...still nothing. _(Pause)_ Do they? I'd like to see that.

DI: _(Taking the rare opportunity to appear smart)_ Of course not, Rod. Back then, plants didn't have skeletons.

_(This is obviously distressing Reg.)_

REG: Uh... uh... uh...

TOM: _(Offhand)_ I think he's having a coronary.

VICKY: Leave it, Reg. It doesn't matter.

_(Reg's eyes bulge. Obviously it does matter to him.)_

SAM: _(Oblivious)_ Why don't you just tell Sergeant Boyden the truth? I'm sure he won't mind.

TOM: Because Boyden's such a happy-go-lucky, fun loving Sergeant, right?

SAM: Yeah. He's lovely.

VICKY: Are we talking about the same Boyden here?

DI: Bad hair, major cynicism addiction? Entirely _too_ attached to his Terminator helmet?

SAM: Oh. I thought you meant _another_ Sergeant Boyden. No, you're right. I don't think _your_ Sergeant Boyden would let you go to the museum.

ROD: He doesn't seem like a particularly museumy person.

TOM: Unlike you, Reg. You must be the most museumy person to ever join the Met.

REG: _(Flattered.)_ Thanks Tom.

TOM: Uh... You're welcome?

SAM: Are you _sure_ that Liza Minelli isn't dead?

 

** [OPENING CREDITS] **

_(The gang dancing around in a fountain of coffee, which is being spurted out by the Sun Hill coffee machine, which is obviously not in the greatest condition. In between clips of this, are shots from the show: Di flirting with a group of young PCs; Vicky telling off a criminal; Sam looking uninterested as a car is broken into right behind him; Rod combing his hair, using his car's rear-vision mirror; Tom looking confused by the computer in front of him; Reg watering the Sun Hill garden.)_

 

** [SCENE TWO] **

_(When we return, everyone is still sitting in exactly the same place.)_

REG: Oh, god, I'm going to be so late.

VICKY: What _I_ don't understand is why you told them that you'd be able to make it in the first place. Surely you knew that you'd be working.

REG: Well, yes, but it was such a fantastic opportunity. I could hardly refuse. I mean, picture it! Me, lecturing to the entire national horticulturist's society!

TOM: _(Pretending to do just that)_ Mm-huh… Well, _that_ certainly beats all those fantasies about naked women…

REG: _(Not at all sarcastic)_ Oh, definitely.

_(Tom gives him a worried look.)_

TOM: Could you be any stranger, Reg?

REG: _(Offended)_ Just because I have different interests to most of the people at this nick!

DI: Oh, don't worry Reg. He's just teasing you. Plant history is a perfectly good interest.

REG: Yeah, but you _have_ to say that, don't you, seeing as you're my girlfriend and all.

_(We will pause a moment to let the true horror of that statement sink in...)_

DI: Yeah, I guess.

VICKY: Getting back to the issue at hand, do you actually have to tell Sergeant Boyden anything, Reg? Can't you just go?

TOM: Yeah. I doubt he's really going to notice that you're gone. I mean, we've been on refs for two hours now and nobody's said anything about it.

REG: True... but what if he _did_ notice? 

VICKY: _Then_ you can worry about thinking up an excuse.

REG: It's an idea, I guess.

SAM: Or you could just invite him to the museum with you.

_(They all stare at him.)_

TOM: Yes, and that would be an option in _which_ universe, Sam?

SAM: Oh, that's right. I was getting my Sergeant Boydens mixed up again.

TOM: Do you get headaches, Sam? See flashes? Aliens?

SAM: My Uncle Robert was an Alien.

TOM: _(Nodding)_ That explains everything.

REG: _(Suddenly resolved.)_ That's it! I'm going to do it! I'm going to do something a little dangerous for the first time in my life.

DI: Are you sure that's wise, Reg? I don't want you to do anything that you'll later regret.

REG: _(Standing up)_ Nope. There's no talking me out of it. I'm going to go to the museum to give that speech, and I'm not going to tell the Sergeant.

_(He smiles maniacally.)_

REG: Ooh, I do feel well-hard...

_(Before any of the others can comment, he strides off, cup of coffee clenched firmly in one hand.)_

TOM: _(Dryly)_ What a dare devil.

DI: I hope he's okay. All this rebellion is going to play havoc with his sensibilities.

VICKY: Oh, he'll be fine. This sort of thing tends to happen every couple of years. I remember, when we were both kids, he drew a moustache on his Big Bird poster.

DI: Ohhh... that's so sweet. How old was he?

VICKY: _(Frowning.)_ Thirteen.

_(There is a period of silence before Rod finally speaks.)_

ROD: Do you think we should get back to work? _(He turns to Tom.)_ Remember, we left that crim sitting in the interview room.

TOM: _(Slapping his head)_ That's right. I _knew_ there was something that I'd forgotten.

_(Rod gestures to a festy looking cup of coffee sitting in the middle of the table.)_

ROD: Do you think he still wants this coffee?

TOM: We'd better take it in to him, just in case.

_(They both rise from the table.)_

TOM: See you in a couple of hours. If we don't interview this nude sunbather...

_(He pauses, realising that there are probably no dramatic consequences to give name to.)_

ROD: _(Filling in helpfully)_ He won't get interviewed.

_(They head off, Rod clutching the cup of ice-cold coffee.)_

VICKY: _(Stretching)_ We'd better get off too. What was that message on the radio a couple of hours ago?

DI: Something about a multiple killing.

VICKY: I guess we'd might as well head on down. There's nothing better to do.

DI: _(Nodding)_ What about you, Sam? Want to come along?

SAM: Nah. I'm meant to be manning the front desk. There's probably a bit of a queue forming by now.

_(They all rise and head off out of the cafeteria.)_

 

** [SCENE THREE] **

_(The inside of an interview room. Rod and Tom are hard at work, 'interrogating' their suspect - take a good look at his face - he'll probably be playing one of the good guys in a couple of years time… Actually, his face is all we can see, thanks to "The One That Was A Friends Rip-Off"'s extreme close-up obsession.)_

ROD: So, you're not going to change your story?

SUSPECT: Why should I? It's the truth!

TOM: _(Slowly)_ So, the truth of the matter is that your you were walking through Sun Hill reserve, when your clothes were stolen by a rogue squirrel?

SUSPECT: Yep.

TOM: Can you even see why we're having trouble believing this?

SUSPECT: No. After all, it's no more unbelievable than the story you told _me_ about taking two hours to get back here because you were abducted by aliens...

ROD: Hey! That happens all the time! Don't you watch the X-Files?

SUSPECT: No, sorry, I'm too busy being assaulted by squirrels.

_(Rod gestures for Tom to come closer, before whispering in his ear.)_

ROD: Do you think he's taking the piss?

TOM: _(Sarcastically)_ No. There really are a gang of squirrels in Sun Hill Reserve, mugging people for their clothes - which, incidentally, they would have no use for.

ROD: _(Satisfied.)_ Oh. That's okay then. I thought he might be making it all up.

_(Tom looks as though he's having a very hard time containing a scream.)_

TOM: _(Finally)_ Look, we don't have time for this. Are you going to tell us the truth, or am I just going to have to stick you back into your cell to have a good long think about it?

SUSPECT: _(Pretends to think about it for a while)_ I'll phone a friend, thanks, Porky.

ROD: _(Mortified)_ What?!? Are you calling me fat? I'll have you know that this is pure muscle! Right, Tom?

TOM: _(Blushing a little)_ I wouldn't know, Rod.

ROD: Oh, come on! What about that time...

_(This track of thought is cut off by a sharp elbow to the stomach.)_

ROD: Ow! What was that for?

TOM: _(Hissed)_ Just be quiet for a moment, Rod. _(To the suspect, in a normal tone of voice)_ Okay, it's back to the cells for you. Just don't come crying to me saying that you're cold.

_(Finally we are treated to a full body shot of the suspect, as Rod leads him from the room. He is completely naked.)_

TOM: _(Under his breath)_ What an ugly naked guy...

 

** [SCENE FOUR] **

_(The front desk. Sam is busy reading an elderly lady's Tarot cards.)_

SAM: Ooh! This is a good one! _(He holds up a card.)_ This one means that you'll meet a talk dark and handsome man and elope with him to Tunisia.

LADY: What about my husband?

SAM: I'm not sure...

_(He pulls another card from the deck and lays if down on the desk. It's 'Death'.)_

SAM: Oh. No need to worry about him.

_(The elderly lady faints. Sam reaches for the phone.)_

SAM: _(Into the phone)_ Can we have another ambulance to the front desk? 

 

** [SCENE FIVE] **

_(Back to the cafeteria. Vicky and Di are sipping from new giant polystyrene cups of coffee.)_

VICKY: Who would have thought that Sergeant Boyden would get so cross about us turning up a little late to that mass shooting thingy.

DI: I know! _Someone_ needs to get a little loving in his life! Honestly, there are just too many people in this place with no sense of humour!

VICKY: Oh I know. I mean, so I stopped on the way to give the area car a wash... It was so _dirty_ for goodness' sake! How can upstairs expect us to give the public a good impression when there is a _paw-print_ on the car bonnet?!?

DI: And I wasn't _that_ long in Harrods, was I?

VICKY: Only an hour or two. Nothing to worry about.

DI: _(Excitedly)_ Oooh! I haven't shown you what I bought yet!

_(She reaches under the table and pulls out armful after armful of shopping bags._

_Meanwhile, we cut to the entry to the cafeteria, where Tom and Rod are just entering. We follow them as they make their way over to the window.)_

TOM: What was all that about in the interview?

_(Rod looks lost. No surprise there.)_

ROD: Huh? What are you talking about?

TOM: Could you _be_ any more dense?

ROD: Look, I honestly have no idea what you're talking about. I think the interview went quite well, actually.

TOM: _(Muttered)_ You would. _(Louder)_ Oh, forget about it. It doesn't matter.

_(They step up to the new tea-man, who has bleached white-blonde hair.)_

ROD: Oh, hello Gunther. How are you today?

GUNTHER: Good, thanks.

TOM: How's the exchange going so far?

GUNTHER: Fine, fine. I _was_ missing one of our Central Perk regulars a little, but I've found someone new to take her place...

_(We follow his gaze over to where Di Worrell is sitting.)_

TOM: Di? 

_(Gunther nods.)_

ROD: Oh, bad choice, man. Di's with Reg.

GUNTHER: Please tell me this is some strange sort of police humour.

TOM: I'm afraid not. Hey, we don't get it either.

_(They exchange goodbyes and the two DCs wander over to join the girls at the table. On the way, Rod physically bumps into D.S. Boulton. They look each other up and down.)_

ROD: How're _you_ doin'?

_(Boulton raises an eyebrow insinuatingly before wandering off, presumably to rearrange his pen and texta collection for the tenth time that day.)_

TOM: _(In shock)_ Wha... wha... wha...

ROD: Hey, cool it! You're starting to sound like Reg!

TOM: _(Finally managing to collect himself)_ What was that all about? Since when do you ask _Boulton_ the famous Skase "How're _you_ doin'"?!?

ROD: _(Shrugging)_ I don't know. I didn't exactly write it down.

TOM: _(Getting a little upset now)_ I can't believe this! I thought we were friends! You live with a guy for years and then you find out purely by accident that he's "How're _you_ doin'" your superior officer! 

ROD: I didn't realise you'd get so upset about it.

TOM: Upset! Upset! _(Getting increasingly louder)_ DO I SOUND UPSET???

ROD: Either upset or deaf. I'm not quite positive which.

_(They finally make it to the table.)_

VICKY: What are you upset about, Tom?

TOM: I'M NOT UPSET!!!

DI: You certainly sound upset.

ROD: _(Explaining)_ He's jealous 'cos I 'How're _you_ doing'ed Boulton.

TOM: _(Sulking now)_ I'm not jealous. I just wish you'd said something. I feel completely stupid now. How many _other_ people knew about this?

VICKY: I did.

DI: And me.

VICKY: And Reg and Sam.

DI: And all of CID.

VICKY: And all of uniform.

TOM: Well that makes me feel so much better. 

ROD: Good.

_(They sit in silence for a while. Luckily Sam turns up before it turns into really bad television.)_

SAM: I thought I'd find you here!

VICKY: You been relieved at the front desk, have you?

SAM: Nah. There was a bit of a fight going on, so I thought I should probably get out of there.

ROD: Good idea. Did you call the police?

VICKY: _(Carefully)_ We _are_ the police, Rod.

ROD: _(A long pause)_ ... oh yeah. That's right.

DI: I wonder how Reg is getting on with his speech.

VICKY: Yeah. Boyden didn't seem to notice he was gone.

DI: I think he was too busy getting those bullets taken out of his lungs to care that much about staffing conditions.

VICKY: True...

SAM: _(Looks at his watch)_ Oh great! It's only five minutes until knocking off time!

TOM: Fantastic. So, whose house are we all going to hang out at tonight?

VICKY: I baked cookies before work this morning...

ROD: Di's and Vicky's place it is then!

_(They all get up, finishing off their coffees as they do so.)_

DI: We'd better go change back into our civvies. See you at home?

TOM: Sure.

_(The uniformed three wander out. Tom and Rod follow on slowly behind them. At the cafeteria exit, Rod stops and turns to Tom.)_

ROD: Hey, Tom?

TOM: _(Sounding a little uninterested)_ Yeah?

ROD: _(Shyly)_ How're _you_ doin'?

_(Freeze as they meet each other's eyes.)_

 

** [CLOSING CREDITS] **

****

** [EPILOGUE] **

_(The museum lecture theatre. Reg is finishing his speech to great applause.)_

REG: Thank you for being such a great audience. I hope to see you all back at the museum soon. We have great plans for the plant history section and I'd love to see you all involved.

_(He bows to the audience and the lights go up. Suddenly he freezes in mid-bow. We are shown the subject of the panicked look on his face. Superintendent Charles Brownlow is sitting front row, centre. And he's not looking happy...)_

**{fin}  
16th October 2000**


End file.
